


Passing Strange

by Chronomorphosis



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Art, Ficlet Collection, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-28
Updated: 2016-07-28
Packaged: 2018-07-27 09:30:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,756
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7612834
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chronomorphosis/pseuds/Chronomorphosis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Four short ficlets involving Grand Admiral Thrawn and Darth Maul, each with an illustration. None of the four actually immediately follow each other, they're more like snapshots of a larger story that I'm not sure I'll ever have the chance to properly write.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Passing Strange

** **

**I. Offering.**

“If you would permit me, Lord Maul?”

He cocked his head, unsure what this strange Imperial meant. The entire evening had been an exercise in confusion - the cordially-worded invitation that brought him here out of curiosity was only the first of the many perplexities he had been bombarded with in the last 24 hours. 

He had suspected a trap, naturally. He had expected an opportunity for carnage, at the very least – but as he had boarded the Star Destroyer this mysterious Grand Admiral Thrawn had been there to personally welcome him. And had – almost casually – waved away his contingent of stormtroopers, idly commenting that Lord Maul was perfectly capable of slaughtering all of them before any could even react with a blaster, and thus they were quite unnecessary. He had been escorted by the Grand Admiral to a broad and dimly-lit room just above the bridge and decorated with hundreds of pieces of art, both real and holographic. Thrawn had asked his opinion, and though Maul dismissed it as a waste of time the mysterious man had merely studied him for a moment before thoughtfully nodding – not in agreement, but in respect of differing opinion. 

When Maul had demanded an explanation for this cryptic meeting, he received assurance that both the Emperor and Vader knew of the Grand Admiral’s request to contact Maul and had apparently waved it away in dismissal. Thrawn was free to do as he liked. The Emperor and Vader had deemed Maul a nuisance, and nothing more. 

Maul had felt his anger rise then, and yet the Grand Admiral seemed unfazed. His eyes had glittered with what Maul almost thought was a mutual fury. “And yet even with their casual dismissal, I believe you could be the most powerful potential ally I could ever hope for.” 

That had  _startled_ Maul. This Grand Admiral was one of the top three most influential people outside of Palpatine in the entire Empire, with near-infinite resources at his disposal, and he had gone out of his way to seek out and solicit... Maul. _Old. Washed up. Failed Sith. Failed crime lord, failed lord of the underworld. Failed brother, failed son._ Yet here he was, responding to the most politely-worded summons he had ever received, aboard a Star Destroyer, and staring up into the intense and scrutinizing gaze of the reclusive Imperial genius of the Unknown Regions.

Maul had asked what _exactly_ he wanted. What _exactly_ this great plan of his was, that he had alluded to in only hints in his invitation. He had expected more cryptic evasiveness, expected Thrawn to sidestep his demand and divert the conversation to some sort of recruitment speech. He didn't actually expect Thrawn to tell him directly what he wanted – that kind of honesty was not something he could rely on Imperials having.

But Thrawn had told him.

He told him of a gathering threat, beyond the edge of the Unknown Regions, beyond the influence of Empire or Republic or any other merely galactic show of force. He had told him that his own people had been preparing themselves for this threat for decades now, how he intended to unite the Empire and its people to work with his own – this Chiss Ascendancy – to form a powerful, unified front that could repel this coming invasion and have the strength and fortitude to stand up to anything thrown their way. He told him that he believed the key to conquering lay in understanding your adversaries. He did so through studying their culture and art – and here he had turned to take in all the masterpieces around them – and in so doing, not only could that understanding be utilized to conquer, but also to rule. For once a people are conquered, they become a responsibility to protect and defend.

And then he had told him that a person of Maul's exceptional strength, his stealth, his sheer _power –_ and that elusive connection to the Force that Thrawn himself could not possibly experience himself – was exactly the kind of person he needed to partner with to assist in the parts of this plan that required a... unique touch.

 _To partner with,_ he had said. He wanted an _ally_ , not another subordinate. And Maul was the ally he wanted. If Maul so desired, of course.

And then, “If you would permit me, Lord Maul?”

He had not responded. He wasn't even sure what Thrawn meant, but apparently his silence was enough to encourage Thrawn to take a step closer and raise a hand, palm-up. He hesitated there, tilting his head to one side rather than repeat the question.

Maul raised an eyebrow but didn't retreat from Thrawn's hand or slap it away, curious.

Thrawn slowly tucked two fingers beneath Maul's chin, barely brushing skin. His glowing eyes explored every inch of Maul's tattooed face, clearly fascinated, almost reverent. “And you yourself are a work of art, Lord Maul. More – a masterpiece. One to endeavor to understand, but never to conquer.” He let his hand drop. “I would be greatly honored if you chose to accept my offer.”

  **~*~*~*~*~*~**

 

 

**II. Embrace.**

At first he tells himself that the embrace must surely be entirely for Thrawn's own benefit. The Grand Admiral is very tactile with the things that fascinate him – artwork, architecture, the wood grain of a tree, the cold durasteel of a ship's hull, the softness of fine fabric and leather; Maul's tattooed skin. It makes sense that Thrawn would strip off his gloves and pull Maul close, inhale his musky, earthy scent, and press soft lips against the side of his neck – such contact interests Thrawn, after all. He enjoys it. Though not something he believes he regularly indulges in himself, Maul understands the concept of hedonism.

But what he doesn't understand is the slow, gentle circles Thrawn draws with his thumb over Maul's shoulder blades. The way he whispers low and husky into his ear, _“Is this permitted?_ ”. The way Thrawn's presence _feels_ and _resonates_ within Maul as he draws him infinitesimally closer, despite the man's utter lack of sensitivity to the Force. The way Maul can sense that Thrawn is trying to _share_ something with him, _give_ something to him, something not entirely for Thrawn's own benefit after all.

Maul finds his own hands grasping the fabric of Thrawn's uniform, knuckles turning white from the intensity of his grip. He's frowning, pulling his full concentration on the feeling of Thrawn's hands against his skin, the gentle pressure of his arms around his torso.

Maul does not understand the embrace. But he leans into it all the same.

  **~*~*~*~*~*~**

 

** **

**III. Relax.**

His skin was softer than he had expected, and his body ran a few full degrees cooler than Maul’s own. Yet Thrawn was warm and relaxed and smiling softly at him over his shoulder. 

Maul eased his head down to rest between Thrawn’s shoulders, careful not to allow his horns to press against the other man’s flesh. Thrawn shifted a little beneath his tentative embrace, pressing back further against him, and Maul heard him chuckle. “You needn’t worry about your horns. I am hardly fragile, Lord Maul. Relax.” 

He huffed into Thrawn’s shoulder. “’ _Relax_ ’, you say, as if it is the simplest thing in the galaxy to do.”

“Mm.” Thrawn’s hand reached back to grip Maul’s own and tugged it around his torso, pressing his tattooed fingers securely against Thrawn’s chest. His voice dropped to a low whisper. “You have told me that your extensive training allows you to focus intensively on one thing, to the exclusion of all other thoughts and feelings, correct?”

“…Yes…?”

He gently squeezed the hand he still held against his chest. “Then focus on the heartbeat you feel.” 

Maul frowned, but complied. He could feel the slow, steady pulse of Thrawn’s beating heart through his palm, and if he rested his ear between Thrawn’s shoulder blades he could hear it echo through his entire body. He slowed his breathing to match a rhythm to that heartbeat, letting the dimly lit room around him slip into darkness and the ambient sounds of the Star Destroyer’s distant engines fade completely away. 

Yet despite it all, he did not focus entirely on the beating of Thrawn’s heart. He felt the gentle pressure of Thrawn’s fingers against his own, the warmth of the body pressing back against him, the tickle of his own breath against soft blue skin. He let his senses expand with the Force, and then he could feel Thrawn’s pleasure at their contact, how comfortable and relaxed he was, and… and how deeply he desired the same to be true for Maul. How… strange. 

“Are you alright?” 

The words didn’t quite jolt Maul out of his state of mind as they did surprise him by their simple, honest content. Concern. He slowly inhaled the scent of Thrawn’s skin, held it, then just as slowly released it. “I… I do believe I am.”

Maul could feel him smile. Thrawn gave his hand a gentle squeeze, and allowed the silence between them to grow into a comfortable quiet. 

**~*~*~*~*~*~**

 

** **

**IV. First.**

Their  _first_  is less like a first and more like a  _last_ , a  _finality,_ an  _ending_  – the end of Maul's doubts, of his denial, the end of his internal insistence that Thrawn's attentions and affection were meaningless, or less than sincere, or a form of manipulation.

Thrawn's fingers linger over Maul's tattooed skin with a reverence and worshipful grace that finally,  _finally_  makes Maul truly believe he still merits the title of  _Lord_. The whispered words in a foreign tongue run tremors up his spine, and the way Thrawn's lips ghost over Maul's own echoes breathless obeisance born of awed devotion.

There is a comforting darkness behind Thrawn's glowing eyes to match the deep dark places in Maul's twin beating hearts, a growing warmth there that envelops him and penetrates him and holds him so close that it doesn't even matter that he has nothing below his waist, doesn't matter that Thrawn's gentle explorations are limited to only half the flesh Maul should have had. Maul's world coalesces into the luminous eyes above him and the fingers on his skin, and he finds himself reaching up with shaking hands to caress the pale blue skin of his new lover's face. And Maul discovers it is not only Thrawn who is enthralled, not only Thrawn who is filled with awe and reverence and touching warm skin in ardent benediction to this strange and sacred fate that brought them into each other's arms.

**~*~*~*~*~*~**

 

**Author's Note:**

> The moment I saw the trailer for Season 3 of Star Wars: Rebels, I knew I'd end up shipping Thrawn/Maul. Not because they had even any remote connection or interaction in the teaser (they don't, not at all), but because they both just.... deserve each other. So much. Maul deserves someone who can appreciate and respect him for HIM and not for what he was or what they want to mold him into. And Thrawn deserves someone who isn’t overawed by him, who isn’t intimidated by his position or his intellect, and can keep him on his toes, and is perfectly capable of surprising him.  
> This is my “make it better” ship. My “happily ever after” that they both should have gotten instead of being shortchanged and shuffled off to the side. It’s so rare for Imperials and Dark Siders to get things like that, so if I can’t hope for it in canon at least I can have it in fantasy.


End file.
